


the magic of you

by CapriciousCrab



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: In love with his best friend for years but afraid to risk their friendship, Dan pushes his feelings aside in order to keep Phil in his life. But what happens when a series of events and a little magic change things forever?
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 49
Kudos: 135
Collections: Phandom Fic Fests Holiday Exchange 2019





	the magic of you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tarredion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarredion/gifts).



> Happy Holidays Tarredion! 
> 
> Thanks for giving me such a great prompt, I've had a lot of fun with it!  
> Hope you enjoy :)

The thumping bass of the music pumping through the room matches the steady pounding of his growing headache. The heat from the fire blazing in the hearth stifles the air and dews his skin, transforming his wavy hair into a mass of damp curls. Sweat drips into his eyes as Dan shakes a clump of those curls from his eyes, making him scowl as he swipes his arm across his forehead.

Potion making is fucking hot, sweaty work.

The tiny window that graces his workroom is propped open with a stack of books; tomes of magic and spells, clever writings that he comes back to time and again for reference. Multi-level shelves with neatly organized bottles and beakers line the walls and his massive bookcase is filled with the rest of his library, along with his parchment and pens used for spellwork. The room echoes with his magic, smokey and potent as lingering hints of amber and cloves scent the air, submerged beneath the sweeter notes of the potion he’s working on until it all blends together into a heady scent that perfumes his workroom.

Dan leans over his battered cauldron and stirs the bubbling liquid gently. Hues of iridescent green fade into the palest shade of lilac, and he smiles smugly at the sight. He’s nailed one of his most difficult potions on the first try, and as he crosses the room to gather his bottles he pumps his fist in victory. 

The slamming of the side door has Dan looking around, head cocked as he listens to the dull thud of footsteps on the stairs. He smiles as he goes back to his work; he’d recognize that clumsy tread anywhere as Phil’s. The sound of a slight stumble and a muffled  _ oof  _ stretches his smile into a fond grin.

A moment later a dark head is poking hesitantly around the door. The last time Phil had surprised Dan it hadn’t gone well; the ensuing mess had taken them ages to clean up so Phil’s learned to cautious. Vivid blue eyes scan the room then crinkle with his smile as he crosses the threshold. Phil ambles over to where Dan is carefully filling his bottles and drops his chin onto Dan’s shoulder as he rests against Dan's back. He can’t help the way he stiffens slightly at the feeling of Phil behind him, but Phil doesn’t seem to notice, as oblivious as ever. 

He’s known Phil now for over a decade and has loved him in secret for what feels nearly as long. They had become fast friends ever since the day Phil had knocked Dan off his feet, then made bashful amends with an overly sweet coffee and a maple-glazed donut. There isn't anything in this world more valuable to Dan than Phil's friendship so he pushes those feelings down deep and smiles over his shoulder into Phil's grinning face, letting his eyes drift over those strong cheekbones and upturned lips before turning away once more.

Sometimes it’s enough to make Dan want to weep. To gnash his teeth in frustrated misery that the one thing he wants most in life is standing right behind him if only he had the courage to reach out for it. But he doesn't. He's too afraid to lose this man that means so much to him. So he turns back to his potion-making and swallows down the feelings he longs to confess.

“Oh, that one’s my favorite!” Phil exclaims happily. He breathes in deep then exhales a contented sigh, his warm breath gusting against Dan’s neck and cheek. “It smells like berries and lavender, just like summer.”

Dan shivers and curses under his breath at the goosebumps covering his arms. He knocks his shoulder against Phil playfully, nudging him away as he finishes filling and corking his bottles. “You say that about all of them,” Dan laughs. “Your sense of smell is shit, mate.”

Phil’s dramatic gasp filled the room as he gives Dan a light shove before moving to Dan’s herb cupboard. “You take that back or I’ll not fill your cupboard! I’ll take them down to Ms. Merrison instead, I’m sure she’d be happy to take my offerings.” He bends as he lifts the strap of his satchel over his head, missing the narrow-eyed look Dan aims his way.

“That’s not all she’d be happy to take,” Dan mutters under his breath. He can’t help the twinge of jealousy he feels at the thought of Ms. Merrison, with her lovely red hair and charming smile, making eyes at Phil. 

He’d thought he’d been quiet enough, but Phil gives a muffled snicker as he pulls open drawers and goes about filling them with bundles of fresh herbs. They work in companionable silence until Phil shakes his head in exasperation.

“Dan, why do you always let your supplies run so low? I’m right next door, for frig's sake.” Phil clucks his tongue and rummages deeper into his satchel, grumbling all the while until he finds some elusive packet that he lifts and brandishes triumphantly. “Ha, found it!”

Dan shrugs at the complaint. Uttered countless times over the years, it’s as familiar to him as the voice mumbling at him from across the room. He watches the way Phil carefully tucks the plants into the drawers, his slender fingers handling them as carefully as a parent holding their child. Those elegant fingers stroke over the leaves and petals as delicately as a gentle rainfall, illuminating them with his magic before they fade back to their natural hues.

Quiet and unassuming, no one would ever know they were looking at one of the most skilled herbalists Dan has ever had the pleasure of knowing. Phil's garden and greenhouse are positively bursting with the plants and flowers that he tends with the greatest of skill and love. Combined with the strength of his magic Phil's tinctures and teas, ointments and extracts are some of the strongest and most pure of any that Dan has come across, making Dan's own potions that much better. 

He finishes corking his bottles, the steps made rote by familiarity as he muses idly upon nature and Phil and magic. He’s coating the last bit of cork with his signature onyx-black wax when the sound of something smashing to the floor brings his head up. The sight of Phil standing in the midst of a pile of shattered glass has Dan blowing out his breath in exasperation. 

“Phil!”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Phil says morosely. He looks at Dan then with a sheepish smile, shrugging his shoulders in helpless appeal as he carefully steps over the worst of the mess to grab the broom that stands at the ready in the corner. “It just… jumped out of my hands!!”

Dan sighs playfully as Phil sweeps up the remains of his largest measuring beaker. “Mmm,” he hums noncommittally. “You’ve got some very jumpy hands there, Phil. That’s the third one this month.”

“Oh, hush! I’m off to the shops anyway, so I'll replace it,” Phil says as he dumps the mess into the bin. He brushes his hands off on his trousers before slinging his satchel back over his head to settle the strap across his chest, tugging it into a comfortable spot near his hip. “I’ll bring it by later with some dinner, yeah?” 

He bumps Dan softly with his hip as he passes, pausing to look up into Dan’s face. Phil hesitates for a moment, their eyes locked together for a breathless moment before pressing a swift kiss to Dan’s cheek before rushing out of the door. 

“Bye, Dan! I’ll say hello to Ms. Merrison for you,” he calls over his shoulder as the sound of his feet take him down the stairs and out the door, leaving Dan standing alone in his workroom, frozen in place as his fingertips inch toward the spot where Phil’s lips had landed. 

*

It had taken Dan some time to regain his equilibrium. Phil had always been a physically affectionate sort, making himself comfortable in Dan’s personal space with his gentle hugs and a cuddly nature that makes him hard to resist. But Phil had never kissed him before, even if it had been nothing more than a quick peck to Dan’s cheek in passing. 

Dan sighs and runs his hands through his hair once again before folding over and thumping his head lightly on his desk. The longing within him continues to grow by the day and he’s not sure how much longer he can continue hiding his feelings for his best friend. 

The opening of the door has him jerking his head up. Dan pats his hair and brushes his hands over his shirt, wiping his hands nervously on his trousers before rising to head downstairs. The smell of pizza wafts up from the kitchen and he can’t help the growing warmth he feels in his chest at the familiarity of it. 

Phil's moving about in the kitchen, grabbing plates and glasses from the cupboard above the sink to set next to the familiar blue and white pizza box that waits on the counter. He looks over at Dan when he enters the room and to Dan’s surprise, a soft flush crosses his cheeks before he turns away, filling their glasses with the ruby red merlot that Dan loves. 

He quirks an eyebrow in Phil’s direction as he sits at the counter. “So, Phil. Care to tell me what the occasion is? Domino’s  _ and  _ wine?”

“You’ve been stressed. And, um, preoccupied? I’ve been worried about you.”

Phil averts his gaze as he speaks, fiddling with the napkins and fussing over the placement of the wine glasses. Dan stiffens in his seat as his stomach swoops then drops. “Did you read me? Don’t poke around in my head, Phil,” Dan croaks. Phil is as powerful a psychic as he is a witch, and the thought of him knowing all of Dan’s hidden thoughts and feelings has panic swirling up to lodge in his throat.

“I would never! I can’t believe- you know I wouldn’t,” Phil says with quiet hurt. 

He’s looking at Dan now, and his blue eyes are full of disappointment. “Not only because you’re my best friend, but because that would go against everything that I am.” His lips quiver briefly before he firms them, compressing them into a tight seam. “I thought you trusted me,” he murmured.

The weight of Phil's hurt makes his limbs feel leaden and slow, but Dan flings out his arm to grasp for Phil’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m sorry. Phil, I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t, I just- I’m just having a weird day.” He scrubs his hands over his face and waits for what feels like an eternity before Phil slowly relaxes, the tension bleeding from his stiff muscles. “Do you forgive me?” Dan asks softly.

“You know that I do,” Phil sighs. He motions to Dan’s plate and gives him a half-hearted smile. “C’mon, eat your pizza before it goes cold.” 

For the first time in ten years, the meal between them is stilted and awkward. Dan pours the wine a little more liberally than he usually does and it helps to round off the rough edges of tension in the air. Before long they’re laughing once more, heads pressed together as they watch the latest kitten video Dan had found online. 

Phil brings it up once more, hesitating in the doorway on his way out as he pulls on his jacket. His eyes search Dan’s face carefully and he wonders what Phil sees there. 

“Dan,” Phil says quietly, “you know you can talk to me, right? You know that I’m here for you, no matter what?”

Dan smiles ruefully and nods his head. “I know, Phil.” He lets himself reach out to fiddle with Phil’s collar, smoothing the twisted material flat before drawing back. “I’m alright, I promise. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Phil gives him a half-smile, pulling Dan into a quick hug before ducking out the door. Locking the door behind him, Dan slumps against it and blows out a breath.

“I can’t talk to you about this, Phil. But fuck, I wish I could.”

*

He wakes up shivering with cold. Dan opens his eyes to find himself trembling beneath his duvet, the light of the full moon illuminating the frosty plumes of his breath that drift from his chattering teeth. Winter has come early, and he finds that he’s woefully unprepared.

Dragging the blanket around his shoulder like a cape, he climbs from the bed. He squeals and curses under his breath as his toes recoil from the chilly floor. Scampering across the room to the hearth, he reaches for firewood only to find the bin empty. 

“Fucking hell,” he whines. He’s tired and bleary-eyed and the only thing his sleepy brain can think to do is go to Phil.

So he does. 

He crosses the boundary of his garden and can feel Phil’s magic in the very soil beneath his feet. It’s comforting and good and makes Dan feel welcome as he lets himself into Phil’s sleep-quiet cottage. He creeps up the stairs, avoiding the creaky one at the top that squeaks loud enough to wake the dead, and heads into Phil’s room.

Dan could have slept on the sofa in the lounge. He’s fallen asleep there many a night when magic or gaming had gone on into the wee hours of the morning. He could absolutely wedge himself onto that tiny sofa for the night… but he doesn’t. He’s tired and cold, all of his normal defenses laid low as he instead tiptoes over to the Phil-shaped lump in Phil’s bed and gives him a poke on the shoulder.

“Phil?” Dan whispers, giving him another poke. “Phil, wake up.”

“Hmmm?”

Dan shifts on his feet and rubs his eyes before giving Phil a shake. “Phil, I’m cold.”

The duvet shifts and a mop of hair appears, followed by Phil’s sleepy face. “What?”

“I’m cold. I’ve got no heat.”

“Oh,” Phil yawns. He pulls back the duvet and scoots across the mattress, making space for Dan in the bed as if it were something he’d done a million times before. “Come on, then. It’s cold.”

Dan gives a weak laugh as he climbs in beside Phil. “I know, you dolt. That’s why I’m here.”

“Shhh, sleep time,” Phil mumbles. He tugs the duvet back up over both of them and pats it in place. “G’nite, Danny.”

The pet name warms him as much as the cozy heat pooling between them beneath the duvet. He inches a bit closer, as close as he dares and closes his eyes in contentment.

“G’nite, Phil.”

*

It’s the feeling of Phil’s magic that next wakes him, pulling him gently from the depths of sleep like the moon pulls the tides. Dan can feel it surrounding him, as soft and gentle as the man who wields it, and when he turns his head on the pillow he’s unsurprised to find the bed empty. Rolling to his side, he looks to the bedside table and the clock there, huffing out an exasperated breath at the time.

Climbing from the bed he moves to the window, rubbing away the frost that gathered there before his breath catches in his throat as he gazes out into the night. The frost-dusted plants that fill the garden are glowing in the light of the full moon, glittering softly beneath the moonbeams that drift down from the sky above. It’s mystical. It’s ethereal. 

And then he sees Phil and he forgets how to breathe.

Limned in moonlight, Phil shimmers in the silvery light as he walks through the garden. His bare feet leave prints in the hoarfrost coating the grass and his breath wafts behind him in smoke-like tendrils. Clad in nothing more than a robe, Phil carries a basket in one hand and his crescent-shaped boline in the other, ready to harvest the last of his herbs on this night of the full moon and the season’s first frost.

Dan knows the ritual by heart but watching Phil perform it is like watching a dance as old as time and just as stirring. He can feel it tugging in his chest as Phil lights his candles, then sucks in a surprised breath when Phil shrugs out of his robe to work skyclad. He knows he should turn away, that he should give Phil the privacy he deserves but he’s frozen in place in front of the window as Phil casts his circle, encompassing his garden before folding his legs beneath him for a brief moment of meditation. Dan winces at the thought of Phil’s bare skin pressed against the icy cold grass but Phil doesn’t flinch, his concentration fierce and focused.

Lost in thought, Dan doesn’t notice the way Phil lifts his head to watch him longingly through the glass of the window. It’s not until Phil rises to his feet that Dan focuses his gaze back at Phil, only to suck in a startled breath when he meets Phil’s eyes. The moment seems to spin out; time slowing as eyes meet and hearts beat together in a syncopated rhythm until Phil startles, his gaze flying to the snowy white owl that launched itself from the trees to begin its nightly hunt. 

Dan ducks back away from the window, his breathing quick and shallow as he sits on the edge of the bed. He desperately wants to understand what just happened, to unravel that moment second by second until he discovers it's secrets, but his racing thoughts won’t settle. He shivers as the cool air slips over his skin and he tucks himself underneath Phil’s duvet once more, leaning back against the headboard as he stifles a yawn, waiting for Phil to come back to bed as he worries himself into knots over what he’s going to say. 

Dan doesn’t remember his eyes drifting shut but when he opens them once more it’s morning and muted sunlight brightens the dim corners of the room. He rubs his eyes, moving to stretch his long limbs like a cat only to freeze at the feeling of someone warm and heavy draped across his back. He turns his head slowly to look over his shoulder and finds Phil’s head tucked up against Dan’s shoulder, his legs tangled with Dan’s as he breathes deep and even, lost to sleep. 

He wishes he could take this new development in stride, that he could cuddle back and let Phil sprawl out over his chest but the overwhelming fear of losing any part of Phil’s affection drives him from the bed, his breath held as he gently slides himself from beneath the duvet. He shoves his feet into his shoes and wraps his own duvet around his shoulders once more, pausing at the door to take one last look at Phil before turning resolutely away.

Dan leaves the same way he came. Quietly. Carefully. 

Alone.

*

He doesn’t see Phil for three days.

Dan stays busy with his work, the snap of cold weather bringing about a variety of requests for potions to help ease the congested and achy bodies that come to him looking for relief. He takes and fills multiple orders, running dangerously low on his supplies as he tries not to despair over what he’s sure is the demise of his friendship with Phil.

Dan’s hunched over his cauldron when Phil slips into the room to wait quietly by the door. Dan can sense him there and wants nothing more than to fling himself across the room to beg his forgiveness for being a coward, but he’s at a critical stage of the health potion. It requires constant stirring to reach the right consistency; one misstep and the whole batch with be ruined. 

It feels like fingers are creeping across his neck and Dan fights the urge to shrug the ghostly feeling away. He wants to speak but doesn't know what he could possibly say, so he holds his tongue and tries not to squirm beneath the weight of Phil’s stare.

“Dan? Are you angry with me?”

Dan whips around at the sound of Phil’s forlorn voice, the bubbling liquid coating his spoon splashing onto the back of his hand to burn and sting. 

“Ohh, ouch, fuck!” 

Dan sucks in his breath and shakes his hand, blowing across the growing blisters swelling his skin until Phil’s cool hand takes his, delicate fingers tracing over the burn as he digs through his ever-present satchel with his free hand. Phil comes up with a pot of salve that he applies with gentle care and a muttered incantation.

_ "From liquid wielded carelessly _

_ Let tender flesh be blister-free _

_ To take this pain away from thee  _

_ As I will so mote it be" _

Dan snorts out a helpless laugh as the painful burn begins to heal, the blistered and reddened skin cooling beneath the soothing tingle of the salve. "I've never been healed and lectured at the same time before. Well done, Phil." 

His grin fades when Phil doesn't giggle back. Phil's face is pale, and he looks tired as if he had gone these past three days without sleep. They stand frozen in silence, eyes locked until Phil releases Dan's hand, stepping back and dropping his gaze to his satchel as he drops the pot of salve inside.

"I'm sorry about the other night," Phil said as he moves over to Dan's cauldron. He peers inside with a grimace. "Oh, it's scorched. What was it?"

"For health. There's been an outbreak of the flu going around." He shrugs his shoulders dismissively. "I can make more. Phil- "

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- when you stayed after the ritual, I thought maybe you… that I…" Phil blurts out. He fiddles with the strap of his bag, fingers plucking nervously as he twists the material before smoothing it out again. “Um...anyway, I’m sorry if I made things weird.”

Dan shakes his head vehemently. “Is that why you’ve stayed away? Phil, you idiot, you didn’t make things weird. Everything is fine, ok? But I want to talk to you about- what are you doing?”

He’s interrupted by the sight of Phil filling his cabinet and emptying his satchel. It should be a common enough sight, it  _ is _ a common sight, but Phil’s movements are stilted and jerky as if he can’t wait to finish his task and leave before Dan can speak. Dan’s determination to talk about his feelings falters, and he falls silent instead, the tension building in the room enough to make him hold his tongue. 

Phil finishes his task at Dan’s herb cabinet and when he turns Dan can see a flash of worry on Phil’s face before it smoothes out into its usually placid expression. “I’m glad you’re not angry with me, and I am sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Dan opens his mouth to try once more to reassure him but Phil cuts him off. “I'm sorry, Dan, but I can’t stay today. I have to run to the shops and get back to my work. I’ll see you later, okay?” he said as he makes his way past Dan. He stops for a moment and lifts Dan’s burned hand, checking it carefully before letting it drop gently back to Dan’s side. “Be more careful, yeah?”

“Wait! Will you come by later? We can get dinner or something…” Dan’s voice trails off as Phil shakes his head.

“I can’t. I have a few things I need to take care of before bed. But soon, okay?”

He can’t help the disappointment that fills him but he forces a smile, “Of course.”

Phil smiles back and pats Dan’s arm as he passes. “I’ll see you later, Danny.”

*

He tries to put Phil’s strange attitude out of his mind. He dumps out the ruined potion, scouring his cauldron clean before starting over, measuring and adding the ingredients so familiar he could name them in his sleep. Five grains of yarrow for cough, eight fluid drams of the plantain decoction Phil had made for him earlier this year, a bit of honey to sweeten the brew and the power of Dan’s magic that he infuses into each batch. 

Dan makes several of them, bottling them neatly before corking and sealing with wax. He nestles them into the fleece-lined box at the end of his workstation before heading down to the kitchen to scrounge for food. It's later than he realized, time getting away from him as it so often does, so he settles for a bowl of cereal that he eats standing up, too tired to bother making anything just for himself. He glances out the window and over toward Phil's, surprised when he notices a light on in Phil's workroom.

Weird, Dan thinks to himself as he rinses out his bowl. Phil isn't usually one for working late, much preferring to work in the early morning before the dew disappears from the grass. To see him working at nearly eleven in the evening means it must be something serious. Whatever it is, it means he wasn't lying earlier when he passed on Dan's offer of dinner. The thought warms him a bit as he turns toward his bedroom, suddenly exhausted.

He sits heavily on the edge of his bed with a muffled groan and kicks off his shoes. Falling back onto the mattress, he slithers his way beneath the duvet fully dressed, too tired to bother digging out pyjama bottoms. His eyelids feel like they have tiny weights attached, preventing him from opening them as he nestles deeper beneath the blankets. He vaguely registered the growing discomfort in his legs and sudden headache before he drops mercifully into sleep.

He dreams of warmth and then of fire. The flames creep closer as his muscles knot and tense, as he shivers and sweats from the blistering heat. He dreams of drum beats in his head, pounding a rhythm that rattles his brains hard enough to jar his eyes in their sockets. Dan whimpers in sleep, trembling with pain and fear until he feels a cool hand come to rest against his brow.

He cracks open heavy eyes to find Phil sat beside the bed, a small brazier lit on Dan's bedside table that casts a warm light over Phil's worried face. His room smells of mint and pine and he watches as Phil crumbles more herbs into the pot that simmers atop the glowing coals, the steam that wafts out scented heavily. It helps to clear some of the fog from his brain as he struggles to figure out what's real and what remains from his dreams.

"Phil?" Dan rasps, only to grimace at the pain in his throat. "Oh fuck, that hurts!"

"Shhh, don't try and talk," Phil says as he shifts Dan into a more upright position. "I've brewed some tea for you, let me help you." 

Dan rests against the headboard and waits helplessly as Phil guides a mug up to his mouth. He sips gingerly and nearly groans in relief when he swallows. Hot and heavily sweetened with honey, he recognizes the flavors of catnip and thyme and he drinks it down gratefully as he blinks sluggishly up at Phil.

He feels awful. A headache that had been brewing before bed has turned into skull pounding agony. Pain that spikes with every movement are echoed in the aching pull in his muscles, and he wants nothing more than to sleep this misery away. He coughs deeply and whines at the burning ache in his chest. 

"I know, I know," Phil soothes, resting his cool hand against Dan's brow once more. "You have a fever, but I've brought some things that will help you feel better. I need to take off your shirt, okay?"

Dan can't do much more than give a feeble nod. He tries to help, to lift his leaden arms but they feel alarmingly weak and reluctant to move. Phil doesn't seem to mind, wrestling Dan's shirt off and tossing it to the floor. He pulls the duvet down to Dan's waist, ignoring Dan's protesting squawk.

"I'll cover you in a minute. But first…" 

Phil's voice trails off as he reaches for the electric kettle he has set on Dan's dresser. He pours some of the steaming water into a shallow mortar and tosses in a generous handful of bay laurel leaves to soak and soften before grinding them into a paste. Phil smoothes it over Dan's chest before wrapping it neatly with muslin, settling Dan back against the bed and pulling the duvet up to his chin.

“How did you know I was sick?” Dan croaks painfully. 

Phil gives him an exasperated look. “I’m psychic, you dummy. How do you think I knew?”

Dan tries to laugh but groans instead, hand flying up to press against his aching head.

"Sleep now, Dan. I'll be here," Phil murmurs as he wipes down Dan sweaty face with a dampened cloth. "You'll be alright."

He falls asleep to the sound of Phil's voice in his ear and his hands stroking Dan's sweaty brow.

*

He's ill for days and Phil never leaves his side. He plys Dan with healing teas, catnip and thyme sweetened with honey until Dan can't drink another drop. Phil rubs rosemary ointment along his fever-dry skin, massaging the oil in and helping to loosen the achy muscles that pull and knot until Dan can move without pain. Phil even tends to Dan’s personal needs, kindly ignoring Dan’s flushed-faced embarrassment as he washes away the sweat and signs of sickness from his body. If he had the energy to squirm with mortification he would, but he can only feel grateful for Phil's loving attention.

For that's what it is, Dan comes to realize slowly. 

He's propped up in bed on the evening of day four of this illness, and he finally feels like he's on the mend. He's been watching Phil move around Dan's bedroom, cleaning up spilled herbs and dirty linens while he freshens the herbal concoction he has set over the coals of the brazier. He brings over a mug of hot tea with lemon, just the way Dan likes it, before heading downstairs to the laundry room to wash the bundle of things in his arms.

He waits for Phil to return. Dan can hear him bumping around downstairs, wincing when he hears a crash and Phil's muttered: "oh dear". He wonders what he could have broken this time only to hear Phil call up the stairs.

"Sorry! I knocked over your lamp, but I can fix it!"

"Oh god, please don't," Dan mutters under his breath. The last time Phil "fixed" something Dan had to call the plumber over to sort out the problem and Phil's attempt at repairing it. "It's fine, just leave it," Dan yells back before dissolving into a coughing fit that made his eyes smart with tears.

"Dan, you're not supposed to be yelling!" Phil scolds as he comes back into the room. He's carrying a bowl of something that smells delicious and has Dan's mouth watering. "Let me make you another mug of tea."

Dan sighs petulantly and drops his head back with a groan. "Please, Phil. No more tea. My eyeballs will start floating if I drink one more cup of tea."

Phil snickers as he hands Dan the bowl. It's full of vegetable soup; thick chunks of carrots and potatoes, sliced mushrooms and celery swimming in a delicate broth seasoned with bits of herbs and spices. It will be the first thing he's eaten since falling ill and his stomach rumbles loudly.

"Here, you big baby. Eat the soup, and you can skip the tea." Phil chides playfully. He pours a glass of water instead and sets it on the bed table before moving to where his mortar and pestle rest on the surface of Dan's dresser. 

Dan eats hungrily, moaning with each bite as the rich flavors spill over his tongue. "How come your baking is always shit when you can cook like this?" he mumbled around a mouthful of carrots, watching the way Phil's arms flex as he grinds and stirs whatever fills his sturdy stone mortar.

"Hey! My baking isn't shit! It's… alright, it is shit," Phil laughingly admits. "Baking is too fussy, too much faffing about with measuring and such. Cooking is easier. You just throw in whatever sounds good and experiment."

Dan hums as he finishes his soup, setting aside his empty bowl. Phil's still busy doing… whatever the hell it is he's doing. "What are you making?" he asks curiously. 

"I'm making you some lotion. You feel like a lizard," Phil calls over his shoulder. He's heating almond oil and beeswax together, stirring as the wax melts before pulling out a dark green bottle from his satchel. 

"What's that?"

"Calendula and comfrey tincture. They have great healing properties."

They fall into a comfortable silence. Phil finishes his lotion and pours it into a glass jar, setting it on Dan's bedside table as he comes near to check Dan's temperature.

"Almost normal," Phil says happily, smiling down at Dan. He brushes a tangle of curls off of Dan's forehead before drawing back. "Care for a shower?"

Dan chokes on his inhale. Phil looks confused for a moment before his eyes grow wide and a hint of pink creeps across his cheeks. 

"Alone! Of course I don't mean- I didn't mean…" his voice trails off before he bursts into laughter. "Oh Dan, your  _ face _ !"

"Shut up!" Dan squeaks, breaking out into giggles that turn into coughs. "Ugh, my chest."

Phil frowns and rummages through his satchel before coming to the side of the bed with something in his hand. "I've got something for that, too. C'mon, up you go."

Phil pulls Dan to his feet and steadies him when he wobbles, Dan cursing under his breath at his own weakness. 

"My knees feel like jello," he complains as Phil guides him to the shower. He lets Phil adjust the water for him as he sits on the toilet lid. "I'm just going to sit on the shower floor there and pretend I'm a slug in the summer rain."

Phil snickers. "Whatever gets you through, mate." He drops a sachet under the running water and suddenly the steamy air is redolent with the scents of eucalyptus and rosemary. "Can you undress without falling?"

"Oi, piss off and let me shower," Dan bitches playfully as he shoves at Phil's shoulder. He doesn't want to let on how weak he feels so he locks his knees and waves Phil out the door. "Out! I'll yell if I need you."

Phil gives him a look that's part fond, part exasperated before leaving. Dan strips as soon as the door closes, stepping under the beating jets of the showerhead with a happy sigh. He breathes deep, letting the herb-scented steam sooth his aching chest and heavy lungs.

He washes his hair and sighs with pleasure, taking the time to deep condition his frizzy curls as he scrubs the signs of sickness from his body. He rinses clean and just stands beneath the spray, soaking in the comforting heat. 

After a long while, he turns the water off and steps out of the shower. A neatly folded pair of pyjama bottoms wait for him, and he smiles at Phil's thoughtfulness. He dresses and brushes his teeth before searching out for the comfort of his bed once more, settling beneath the duvet with a sleepy yawn as he waits for Phil.

Dan wakes to the feeling of Phil's hands on his body; rubbing over his hands and arms, his throat and chest. Phil is smoothing the herbal lotion over Dan's dry skin and it feels so nice that he keeps his eyes closed and enjoys the feeling of being cared for.

The crackle of wood in his fireplace is soft, the bedroom hushed and still as Phil works his magic. Dan had nearly drifted back off to sleep when the sound of Phil's voice floats into his ear, a quiet murmur of sound.

_ “Herbs blessed by moonbeams pure times three _

_ Shall work to keep you fever-free _

_ My love for you shall comfort thee _

_ As I will so mote it be.” _

Love.

Dan's eyes fly open to find Phil staring down at him with an expression he can't name. His heart pounds and his mouth goes dry as Phil's hands keep working the lotion over his skin, soft and tender. He wants to speak, wants to demand that Phil say it again but Phil’s eyes look startled and full of fearful caution, and Dan finds that he’s reluctant to disturb this fragile moment.

"Close your eyes now, Dan," Phil whispers. "Sleep well and wake rested. Everything will be alright."

Dan wants to argue but even now he can feel the drowsiness creeping back in to pull him into the depths of sleep. He reaches out and grabs Phil's hand, squeezing it softly before closing his eyes once more. 

*

He wakes to the sound of birdsong in the air. Sunlight streams in through a crack in the blinds, dust motes sparkling in the bright beam that arrows into the room. Dan rolls onto his side, relieved by the feeling of normalcy that fills him. No more aching bones or feverish chills, just a good long stretch that nearly makes him purr in delight. He opens his eyes expecting to find Phil hovering by his side, but the room is empty.

He sits up and looks around the room. It's tidy and clean, all of Phil's herbs and pots and equipment gone as if they had never existed. Nothing remains of Phil's presence but the lingering scent of mint and pine that had eased Dan’s aching lungs during his illness. 

Dragging himself out of bed he dresses in loose joggers and a baggy tee, sliding his feet into his fuzzy slippers before heading downstairs. He still feels weak but he’s thrilled to be out of his bed, eager to find Phil. Dan swings through the empty lounge and into the kitchen, sure he’ll find Phil sitting there nursing a cup of coffee.

Phil is sat hunched over his coffee mug, long fingers curled around the porcelain as if to absorb the heat that had seeped into the black ceramic cradled in his hands. His shoulders are drawn up protectively as if to shield himself from hurt and something about that defensive, defeated posture makes Dan want to pull him close for a bit of a cuddle. He clears his throat softly, not wanting to startle Phil into spilling his coffee.

“Phil?”

Phil startles anyway. He jerks a bit in his chair and sets his mug down with a clumsy thump, a tiny tidal wave of coffee washing over the rim to splash onto the counter. Phil stares at the mess intently, as if to avoid Dan’s eyes and mops it up with the cuff of his sleeve.

“Shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Dan’s voice is a little too loud for the stillness of the room and he can feel fresh nerves springing up to make his hands clammy. He wipes them on his joggers before reaching for a mug of his own to pour himself a coffee. His heart is already pounding and he really doesn't need the caffeine, but he takes a sip anyway, hoping to give them both a minute to settle.

Phil had said he loved him, Dan reminds himself as he leans back against the counter and tries desperately to think of something to say. Phil didn’t just say it but he used it as part of a healing spell, powerful magic that Dan knows Phil wouldn’t abuse. 

Phil smiles then and Dan nearly wilts in relief. It’s Phil’s genuine smile, the one that shows his teeth and tongue and crinkles up the corners of his eyes. It lights up Phil’s entire face and Dan thinks a bit stupidly that he wants to see Phil smile at him like that forever.

“You’re feeling better!” Phil says happily, eyes scanning Dan for any lingering signs of illness. He grins when he finds none, lifting his coffee to his mouth once again.

“I am, thanks to you.” 

Phil waves away Dan’s words and smiles tiredly. They sip in companionable silence for a peaceful moment before Dan can’t take it anymore.

“Phil?”

“Hmmm?”

“Did you mean it?”

The words drop into the silence like a stone in a well, sinking deep into the stillness that suddenly fills the kitchen.

Time seems to slow as Phil’s eyes meet Dan’s. Dan braces himself for the denial he’s sure will come but Phil remains silent as he chews on his bottom lip nervously.

“Phil?” Dan questions, breath held and heart pounding. “Did you mean it, what you said last night in the spell?”

Phil stands with a strained laugh. “Of course I meant it. You're my best friend and-,”

He wasn’t expecting this. He didn’t think Phil would try to handwave it away as nothing more than friendship and he’s torn between feeling angry and feeling disappointed. And as Dan thinks back on the endless nights he’d spent filled with longing for the man across from him squirming beneath his stare, anger wins.

“No, you don’t get to do that, Phil! Just fucking- just stop,” Dan snaps. He turns and slams his cup down into the sink before running an agitated hand through his hair. “Why can’t you just- ”

"Why can't I just what, Dan? What do you want me to say?” Phil snaps back, eyes hurt and filled with an anger-fueled fear. He climbs to his feet in a jerky rush, the legs of his chair scraping harshly across the wood floor. “You want me to admit it? I love you, ok? I’ve loved you since the day I knocked you to the floor. And when you smiled up at me with that dimple I knew you were it for me. I’ve loved you for ten years and now you know my biggest secret… are you happy now?” 

Phil’s breath is coming in short gasps, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Dan opens his mouth to speak but Phil turns and bolts out the door, slamming it behind him.

Dan stands in the ringing silence left behind. His heart is pounding hard enough to make him feel dizzy so he creeps to the chair Phil had vacated and folds over to rest his head in his arms. He feels sick when he thinks about how cornered and hurt Phil had looked, how Phil couldn’t wait to get away after Dan had forced the words from him.

He hadn’t even had a chance to give Phil the words back.

Dan groans and buries his head deeper into his arms, wishing he could start this whole morning over. Shoving away from the counter, he jumped to his feet to pace the length of the room. He stops to press his hand to the window, looking past his garden to where Phil had fled and knows he has to talk to Phil before his clumsy attempt at confessing his feelings becomes something irreparable between them. 

*

Dan wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans as he pauses before the door of Phil’s greenhouse. Phil’s favorite place, Dan knows deep in his bones that Phil will be inside seeking the comfort he finds in tending to his plants. He shuffles nervously as he reaches out for the handle before hesitating and drawing it back, squatting instead to admire the pretty terracotta pots full of trailing ivy and bright orange verbena that decorate the stoop as he takes a moment to steady his rioting emotions. He runs a hand over the soft petals and calms at the way he can feel Phil's magic there, gentle and encouraging as it ensures the health of his plants.

Dan spins at the sound of the door opening, tripping over his own feet before regaining his balance. He can't help the embarrassed flush that colors his cheeks as he curses his clumsiness, raising his eyes to meet Phil’s.

Phil stands in the doorway, watching him silently. His face is drawn and his eyes look red as if he'd been crying, but his expression is composed and carefully neutral. For the first time in the ten years since they had met, Dan feels uncertain of his welcome. 

“Hey, Phil. Um, can I come in?” 

Phil steps back and holds open the door as Dan bends to pick up the bottle he’d brought with him. He steps into the warm, fragrant greenhouse and feels a sense of peace settle over him. He’s always loved it here; the multitudes of plants and flowers blooming throughout the year to perfume the air. He takes a deep breath and holds it in for a moment before letting it out in a soft sigh. He hears the door close behind him and turns to face Phil once more.

"I've brought you something," he says, offering the bottle in his hand to Phil.

Phil looks at it but doesn’t move to take it. "Is it a potion? Will it erase the memory of me making a fool of myself?" he asks bitterly. 

"Phil," Dan admonishes gently. "You didn't make a fool of yourself. And of course it's not a potion. It's wine."

Phil searches Dan's face as he reaches out slowly for the slender bottle held in Dan's outstretched hand. "This is the wine that you make for special occasions," he says, looking at Dan with confusion. "Why are you giving it to me?"

Torn between laughing and wanting to reach over and wring Phil's neck, Dan settles for shaking his head with a wry smile and snorts out a helpless laugh.

"Phil, you dolt. Why do you think?"

The dawning understanding that blooms across Phil's face makes Dan's heart beat faster with a combination of nerves and anticipation. 

A tremulous smile tugs at the corners of Phil's lips as he stares hopefully into Dan's eyes."Dan? Are you saying...are you-?"

"Enamored of you? Ridiculously fond of you?" Dan says as he takes a step closer to where Phil stands. "Hopelessly in love with you?"

Phil steps forward and now they're chest to chest, noses bumping when he rests his forehead against Dan's. Dan can see the flutter of Phil's pulse at the base of his neck, and the hushed delicacy of the moment has him fighting back a sudden rush of tears.

"You love me," Phil whispers, the wonder and joy in his voice matched by the emotion in his eyes.

"Yes," Dan whispers back. He cups Phil's cheek as he nuzzles Phil's nose with his own. "I've loved you for years, Phil."

Phil's breath hitches at Dan's confession before he throws his arms around Dan's neck. Dan grunts when the bottle still clutched in Phil's hand thumps him in the back, his own arms coming around to circle Phil's waist.

Phil draws back and smacks Dan lightly on the shoulder. "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

"I was afraid. I would rather go the rest of my days loving you in secret than risk losing one minute of your friendship." Dan says simply.

The tears brimming in Phil's eyes spill over to trickle down his pale cheeks. "Ten years, Dan. We've wasted ten years," he says mournfully, lips trembling. 

Dan shakes his head firmly, cupping Phil's cheek once more as he stares into his eyes. "Not one single moment shared between us has been a waste. You're my best friend, Phil. My companion through life and magical counterpart- "

"Soulmates," Phil breathes, a wobbly smile growing on his face.

Dan smiles back as tears of his own thicken his voice. "Actual soulmates. You know, if souls were real."

He laughs when Phil swats him gently on the back of his head in complaint, then grows serious once more. "I'm sorry I pushed earlier. I didn't mean to upset you. I just- I guess I just wanted you to be the one to say it first because I was too afraid."

"Idiot," Phil whispers fondly before pressing his lips to Dan's. 

Their first kiss is sweet and tender, a gentle exploration that has the air around them filling with the combined aura of their magic. Earth meets Fire, blending together in a subtle smoky-sweet fragrance that fills the room. It's a quiet thing, the blending of their magic, but no less powerful than the two men entwined together amidst the fragrant blooms of Phil's greenhouse.

The kiss ends when Phil pulls back with a sigh and drops his head to Dan's shoulder. Dan buries his face in Phil’s messy mop of hair and breathes in the familiar scent of rosemary and mint that's so distinctly Phil.

"I love you, Dan," Phil says softly. "Will you come inside?"

Dan presses a kiss to the top of Phil's head before sliding his hand down Phil's arms to entwine their fingers. "Come on, Phil. Let's go make a home."

Epilogue

The crash shakes Dan awake from his cozy nap on the sofa. He jackknifed upright to a sit, swinging his legs to the ground as he calls out for Phil.

"I'm fine! Sorry! I, uh… I may have broken something. But it's fine! You don't need to come up," Phil calls down a bit nervously.

Dan snorts as he heads up the stairs. They’ve lived together now for a year and he knows what that means. It means Phil's broken yet another piece of Dan's equipment. Last week it was one of his mixing bowls, the week before  _ that _ it was the little radio he kept near his work table. He stops in the doorway and surveys the scene in silence.

Phil stands surrounded by what looks to be the remains of Dan's favorite scrying glass, a look of remorse on his face.

"I'm sorry, Dan. I was just trying to move it to a safer spot when it just-"

"Jumped out of your hands. Yeah, I know all about your jumpy hands."

Phil kneels to sweep up the mess as Dan walks over. He's just about to kneel down and help when Phil stops him by grabbing his hand and bringing it to his mouth for a kiss.

"I love you, Dan. My best friend and soulmate, your love makes me whole. I want to spend the rest of my days with you, bound together by heart and by magic."

He opens Dan's hand and places a ring onto his palm. Made of meteorite and obsidian, Dan gasps as he feels the strength of Phil's love and magic woven within the precious metals. 

“Oh!” He looks down at Phil's sweet face, so earnest and full of love and can't help the joyful tears that filled his eyes. "Say it, Phil! Please ask me so I can say yes," he chokes out.

Phil's laughter rings out bright and clear, his face lit up with joy.

"Dan, will you marry me?" he asks softly.

"Yes,” he whispers. His voice wobbles and he takes a moment to steady himself. “I love you so much, Phil. Yes, I’ll marry you!"

Dan holds out his shaking hand and his breath catches on the edge of a sob as Phil eases the gleaming black ring onto his finger. He lets it out in a quivering sigh when Phil speaks once more, his magic filling the room.

_ “Take this ring made tenderly  _

_ With fire and earth wrought carefully  _

_ This love I pledge eternally  _

_ As I will so mote it be.” _

Dan kneels and presses his lips to Phil's in a tender kiss. "So mote it be."

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my beta, Evening42. You're the best <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> You can like and reblog [here](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/189981948165/the-magic-of-you-rating-t-word-count-86k)


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